The Drawing Room



Big Room, 1948, by Andrew Wyeth



It was the Sunday room

‘cept Sunday never really came;

 one loveless day blurred into the next...

It was the drawing room,

guests entertained by perfect hosts…

Bottom nanny tapped

“Go in!  Go in,

my little precious one,

they’re waiting!” 

(Mummy what I want most of all

is to be your friend...)

…and I’d go in

hating the feigned affection,

affected for the sake of others,

held close to your chest

I’d feel your bitter cold

as you muttered

empty loving words in longing ears,

mixed messages of frigid mother love.

(Mummy what I want most is to be your friend…)

Life ends, nothing left of you

but dust and bitter memories.  

The room draws me in

and I see you there

hiding in the gloom and shadows

gazing at my photo on the mantel

and I finally understand,

how can those

who have not known love give love,

you reach out for me

from beyond the living

and I feel the warmth within your hand.

Anna :o]

With thanks to Tess at The Mag for this weeks prompt.